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And it wasn’t as if he’d hung his career on the British Institution’s art show.

“You look rather serious.” Beatrice’s sleep-husky voice drew Cassius’s attention back inside the conveyance. Or had her cold made her voice hoarse?

Her drowsy hazel eyes reminded him of a sleepy kitten.

She coughed into her handkerchief, her narrow shoulders shaking.

Teddy yawned and blinked his one good eye.

“I’m a good listener if you care to talk about whatever is troubling you, Cassius.”

Shewas troubling him, but he could hardly tell her that, now, could he?

Instead, he produced a flippant grin.

“You snore, Beatrice.”

Rather than become affronted, she raised a reddish-blonde eyebrow and gave an arch look, humor twinkling in her eyes.

“A gallant gentleman would never say so,” she said without a hint of her stutter.

He couldn’t control his shout of laughter, which caused both dogs to cock their heads and thump their tails. “Are you suggesting I’m not chivalrous?”

“Oh, my heavens, not at all.” At once, Beatrice pressed a hand to her chest, and her expression grew contrite. “Forgive me. You have more than proven your chivalry, Cassius. Please know, I meant no offense.”

“I’m not offended, Beatrice. I was but teasing.”

Leaning forward, he took her hand in his and gave her fingers a light squeeze. A lifetime of abuse at Highbury’s hands likely caused her unnecessary contrition. “You mustn’t take everything to heart.”

She raised her focus from her hand cradled in his, and their gazes locked.

Just like an enchanted moment from a fairytale, time stood still—suspended in a magical haze. He couldn’t have torn his gaze from hers if a score of armed highwaymen had descended upon the coach.

Her rosebud mouth parted, and emotion softened the corners of her eyes.

Stop this insanity!

Do not encourage her feelings or give her false hope.

Dropping her hand a trifle rougher than was necessary, Cassius reclined against the seat once more.

You’re an unconscionable cad, Cassius Nathan Everett Westbrook.